"Forest of Menos…"
Hueco Mundo's evil breath seeped out—sight and sound both hinted at towering, shadowy Hollows, wandering aimlessly through that lightless, dead forest.
Unohana wasn't surprised. She'd visited Hueco Mundo centuries ago, hoping to find worthy opponents for a proper bout, only to be sorely disappointed. Back then Las Noches didn't exist; Menos simply drifted without aim. She remained there three years and met little more than straggling dregs—never even an Adjuchas.
Thinking of it, color warmed Unohana's cheeks. She tapped Minazuki in her heartworld and murmured, "All your fault…"
If Minazuki hadn't kept whispering in her ear, how could a millennia-old, composed captain end up doing something so… shy—like using her body to tempt Cole?
By the blood pool in Unohana's heartworld, Minazuki sat smiling, pale feet rippling the crimson surface. "Master, if you don't tease him a little, what if someone else steals him away?"
She giggled. "That brat Cole has been zipping all over Seireitei and hasn't come to see you in days, right?"
For once, Unohana pouted. "Exactly. I wanted to fight him, but he's been dodging me."
Minazuki's eyes curved. "And every time you do find him, you carve him up head to toe. That's a bit much, isn't it? No reward at all—how can he keep agreeing?"
Unohana's blush deepened until she could barely speak. She was over a thousand years old, and here she was… considering "rewarding" a sixteen-year-old boy—with her body, no less.
"Hana-nee!"
"Hana-nee!!"
"Hana-nee!!!"
Cole's voice rose three times before Unohana came back to herself.
He stared at her flushed face. "What were you thinking? You're bright red. I called you a bunch—we need to go."
A garganta (Black Cavity) was a rip in space; the world would try to mend it. Keeping it open drank his reiryoku (spiritual pressure).
Unohana coughed lightly and looked at the dark seam. "It's nothing. Let's go."
She stepped into the breach at once; every extra second she lingered here felt… transgressive.
"Like a shy schoolgirl," Cole muttered, shaking his head as he followed her in.
Back in the room, Yoruichi and Senjumaru were still tussling.
"Wait, Senjumaru—enough already. It's just a set of clothes; do you have to keep feeling me up this long?"
"I'm curious. You actually have a technique that shreds garments."
"Mm—hold it, Senjumaru, your hands—"
"Research. I must craft something you can really fight in. One more pass…"
"Waaait—!"
On the far side of the garganta, Cole and Unohana stepped out—and the world flipped.
No sun. No moon. No stars. No light, no clamor, no structures. Everything was wrapped in dark. Dusk without dusk's gentleness—only sterility and silence, like a horror scene that set skin crawling at a glance.
"The Forest of Menos, huh?"
"Creepy enough!"
Cole took in the "trees"—not wood, but quartzlike columns: gray-white, branch-forked, leafless. A thin, milky glow leaked from them—the forest's only light.
They were everywhere, horizon to horizon. Cole rapped one knuckle on a trunk; it rang like struck iron.
Not wood, then.
The sound traveled—and the once-silent forest erupted in a chorus of shrieks. It was as if tens of thousands of Gillian roared together—greed and malice made audible, enough to numb the scalp.
"So this is the monsters' nest."
Cole withdrew his hand, eyes bright as he peered deeper into the Forest of Menos. Compared to Soul Society, Hueco Mundo truly felt like another world. The afterlife could still support ordinary human souls; here, nothing supported human life at all.
"Hana-nee, let's look around inside."
Unohana followed with a faint smile. "Stay a while and you'll see—there's nothing fun here."
"I dunno, it's pretty interesting," Cole said, checking out the landscape—grotesque gray-white growths against endless dark, like an expedition through the underworld.
Suddenly his eyes lit. He pointed. "Look, a tiny Hollow!"
It was rabbit-small, like a mundane bunny save for the Hollow mask and chest-hole. Compared with the usual dregs and Gillian, it had… the tiniest hint of cute. Its spiritual pulse was feeble.
"That's the bottom rung," Unohana said. "Shattered souls clumping—food for other Hollows."
"Still kind of cute," Cole grinned, reaching. Startled, the little thing tried to bolt—
then froze, trembling, as his upper-Menos aura washed over it. Cole lifted it by the scruff and offered it to Unohana. "Want to hold it?"
With that face and a captain's haori, add a rabbit and she'd be the moon goddess.
Unohana set a fingertip by the creature's mouth. "Remember this in Hueco Mundo: no matter the shape, a Hollow's nature doesn't change. Evil and darkness are its core."
At the scent of reiryoku, the "cute" thing's jaws snapped wide and bit down—only to clang on steel-hard skin with a ring like metal. It howled, thrashed, reeking malice, all charm gone.
Cole's fondness vanished. "Gross. Is everything here like this—nothing but devour and kill?"
Unohana flicked its head; it burst into drifting motes. "A gathering ground for fallen souls."
That didn't dent Cole's curiosity. He drifted on, deeper and deeper, until even the memory of Unohana's… enticing new clothes slipped his mind.
Time meant little here, but he felt they'd gone at least two hours. Still the same forest, still the same gray-white trunks.
"Are we walking in circles?" he asked.
Unohana tapped a trunk. "No. You've covered a lot of ground. This is just how Hueco Mundo is. Desolation and death are its leitmotif. The Forest of Menos looks the same no matter where you go."
Cole clicked his tongue. Truly Hueco Mundo—lonely even in the telling. Throw a shinigami here for a few years, and even if Menos don't get him, the solitude will.
They went on a bit longer until boredom took hold. At last, roars pealed: a Gillian loomed, mountain-huge, charging them with slobbering greed.
"Rrraaaah—!"
Cole spared it a glance and said, flatly, "Scram."
An upper-Menos' aura rolled out. The Gillian skidded, then fled in panic, terrified of being eaten by the higher predator. Other nearby Hollows scattered too. To dregs and Gillian alike, Cole's presence was a king's—snuffing even the thought of resistance.
Exhaling, Cole turned to Unohana, lips curving. "Hana-nee, out here in the Forest of Menos, it feels like… just the two of us in the world."
Unohana blinked—and, thinking of something, colored again. "What do you want to do?"
Cole smiled. "Since it's only us, could you show me your new outfit?"
"Here?" Unohana clutched her haori. "Can't it wait until we're back in Soul Society?"
They were alone, yes—but the emptiness itself made her shy. She inwardly scolded Minazuki. She was the master of the Eight Thousand-Style; when had she ever worn something this… bold?
"It's just us," Cole coaxed. "Don't you think it's… thrilling here?"
Minazuki whispered in her heartworld again, teasing. "Maa—let me see."
Cole's fingers brushed Unohana's shoulder from behind, gently tugging the white haori.
"Don't call me that," she whispered, scarlet. "And if you look, you'll spar with me later…"
The haori slipped to the ground.
Cole drew a sharp breath. "Hana-nee, that outfit…"
Black silk traced alabaster—stockings gleamed along long legs; sanctity inverted to sinful allure. A saint turned temptress.
He stepped forward—
....
Even in the shadowed Forest of Menos, a hush deepened—then only soft, steady breathing remained.
…
(End of Chapter)
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